All the Right Moves


Just when the summer was mellowing out nicely — it's moving day! 

OK, not until September 1st, but I'm out of town next weekend, and the move is going to require some logistics I have to work out well in advance. 

_______________________________________

The price you have to pay
for a little dignity in this town.
_______________________________________

The main thing is — I need to be out early on the 1st, but won't get keys to the new place until late.  I looked into pods and doortodoor but I don't want to pay between $400 and $600  to store things on the street for a week, or whatever. 

Renting a moving truck for the day is the obvious (if far from perfect) solution, but before I do I'll need to renew my driver's license, which is something I've been putting off ever since I flunked the written test a year-and-a-half ago.  I mean, who wants to go through that again?  Talk about PTSD, I'm still traumatized.

Whether I rent a moving truck or not, I'll need a new ID.  I have to pay my deposit with a cashier's check and my bank always looks askance at my old passport, my only form of picture ID, which was issued in Budapest by the American Embassy there after my American-made model was water-damaged.  Already sounds suspicious, doesn't it?  It looks like something out of the old Soviet bloc, too.

So even for small withdrawals I get the epic run-around. Last time I tried to get twenty bucks at the counter they were like, "this doesn't even look real."  Forget trying to take out two grand.  To complicate issues, even my "fake" passport has now expired.



I know, I know — I bring it all on myself.

But not entirely.  Anyone with their eye on the housing market in Boston knows that a bust in the buyer's market means a boom in rentals.  Back in March I got the sob story from Steinberg, my property management company — they want you to feel sorry for them for raising your rent.  It's like when your old man snapped his belt and said "this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you."  Um, wanna flip?

But, sure, I could have stayed put.  I'm paying more and more each move, from $400 a month to $800 to $1200 to $1600 — it's the price you have to pay to live with a little dignity in this town.  But at least my moves are getting shorter and shorter — from five miles to five blocks to just two in this next one.  I can't see this pattern continuing on much longer before it goes quantum — maybe I'll take some time off from moving. 

But that's not the issue right now. 

God bless The Ex is all I have to say.  He's already in for my move.  I have to say I have the bestest exes.  Big, strapping manly men who are actually useful in a move.  I've always been attracted to useful men.  Now I know why.

My hunky sailor boy and patron saint of drowning puppies is also in.

You could be forgiven for thinking that moving is becoming a substitute for some of the best sex I ever had. 

I wish it were that much fun.  But, alas.  It's complicated.
 
Trackbacks
  • No trackbacks exist for this post.
Comments

Leave a comment

Submitted comments are subject to moderation before being displayed.

 Name

 Email (will not be published)

 Website

Your comment is 0 characters limited to 3000 characters.